


A Clan of Three

by LadyLibby



Series: Across the Stars [1]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Blindfolds, Bounty Hunters, Canon-Typical Violence, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Intimacy, Love, Mandalorian Culture, Mando needs a hug, Past Abuse, Peril, Protective!Mando, Reader is a healer, Romance, Sharing a Bed, Slow Burn, Yodito is the real star of this story, post-season one
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-26
Updated: 2020-02-23
Packaged: 2021-02-27 04:33:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 13,272
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22421134
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyLibby/pseuds/LadyLibby
Summary: You were just a bounty. Just goods to be turned in for a reward, and a sizeable reward at that. It shouldn't matter that you were strong and smart and the Child loved you. It shouldn't matter that you'd worked hard to escape, that you didn't deserve to enter a forced marriage.None of that should have mattered.But it did.
Relationships: Din Djarin/Reader, Din Djarin/You, Original Male Character(s)/Reader, The Mandalorian (The Mandalorian TV)/Reader, The Mandalorian (The Mandalorian TV)/You
Series: Across the Stars [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1660003
Comments: 84
Kudos: 954





	1. The Shipyard

**Author's Note:**

> This might be the most excited I've ever been about one of my stories!  
> Thank you thank you to Nyvera, my ever wonderful beta reader and lovely friend. Without her help (and the Wookiepedia), this would not be what it is. 
> 
> Enjoy!

_ “We're a culture. We're an idea. And you can't kill ideas—but we can certainly kill you. _ "

―Mandalore the Destroyer

_ 10 ABY _

_ Wild Space - Agaris Mining Settlement _

“They get so bad sometimes I can’t see for the pain but we have to keep going or the overseer will…” 

The patient trailed off, her lekku quivering. Your heart ached for the Twi’lek as you felt the fear and exhaustion radiating off of her in waves. 

Even with the Empire in shambles, the vestiges of their rule spread across the galaxy like cracks spreading across a pane of glass. Imperial bases became compounds for cartel members; factories fell into Hutt hands; and mining colonies, like the one where the Twi’lek worked, languished in unethical working conditions. The New Republic were trying, you knew but they lacked the one advantage to being an evil and corrupt organization–speed.

The Council of Eufornis Minor may have turned a blind eye to the factory conditions so as to be better accept bribes, but they all recognized the importance of good medical care. Thus, the medstation was well-stocked and staffed. Your unfinished medical degree was enough to get you a job here instead of slaving away in the mine.

“I know just the thing to make those headaches go away, don’t you worry.” You assured the Twi’lek with a gentle smile. 

You opened the cabinet dedicated to everyday medicines–bandages, cauterizers, and pain medication. You selected a simple bottle, consciously ignoring the Imperial symbol stamped on the lid. You’d learned early on how to avoid the flashes of memories it caused. Better not to dwell on the past, you always reminded yourself, only look ahead. 

“Take one of these when you first feel the headache coming on and it should subside within a few moments. Try not to take more than five in a twenty-four hour period, though. They cause stomach problems when taken in excess.” You instructed, handing the bottle over. 

You reached forward, covering her blue hand with your own. You closed your eyes, picturing comfort in your mind– soft blankets, sunshine, and a gentle breeze. You imagined gathering those feelings in your hands and gently passing them to her. The Twi’lek visibly relaxed, lowering her shoulders and breathing more deeply. 

“Remember you have a friend here if you need it.” You reminded, patting her hand. 

“Thank you, truly.” The Twi’lek said, sliding off the examination table to her feet. 

You filled in the proper information on her medical profile before handing the datapad to a nearby med droid for filing. 

“Anania,” Milo walked towards you from the bacta tanks. 

It took you a moment to look up. Even after five years, you had trouble responding to the new name. Yes, you’d chosen it for yourself, but it still felt wrong, like a borrowed coat that was too tight in the shoulders. 

“Anania,” He repeated, standing in front of you now. 

“Dr. Xlana,” You pressed your lips together in a tight smile. “Can I be of assistance?” 

“That is inherent to your job, as I recall.” He chuckled. “Dr. Jaida needs help with a house call.” 

“The Hanan baby?” 

“Loika is having difficulties delivering. I’m going to assist matters. I’d like you to look after things here while I’m gone. It appears to be a slow day, so you shouldn’t have much trouble. If a difficult case comes in, you can always call on the droids. They know more than I do, and I went to medical school.” 

“Yes, of course. I’ll take care of everything. ” You nodded, pride flaring in your chest that he would trust you to oversee the station in his absence. 

“Good, good.” He clapped your shoulder, his smile leaving crinkles at the corners of his eyes. “I’ll be back in a few hours.” 

The accident happened only an hour later. 

You felt it before word actually reached the medstation–the air shifted, smelling suddenly sour and making the hairs stand up on your arms. Unease settled in your stomach, making your fingers itch and your mind race in anticipation. 

“Ready the beds.” You called to the other doctor’s assistants and droids. 

“We do not need to ready the beds.” MD-476 corrected. “No one is here.” 

“They’re coming.” You warned, staring everyone down. “Dr. Xlana left me in charge. Ready the beds.” 

A collective grumble passed through the assembled crew, but they obeyed, putting fresh coverings over the tables and beds, sterilizing equipment, and waiting with smug smiles to see you embarrass yourself. 

Their smiles slipped away when the first miners arrived. The stream flowed in order of severity. Those who could walk arrived first, escaping with minor cuts and scrapes. Then came the gashes and burns. You were already occupied, treating and bandaging and moving on, when the worst were carried in on makeshift stretchers or in the arms of their friends. 

“We do not have enough space to house the injured.” MD-476 warned. 

“Assess the new arrivals and put the most serious cases in the bacta tanks.” You instructed, keeping pressure on a particularly nasty gash. “Send a message to Dr. Xlana and Dr. Jaida telling them the situation and to return as soon as they are able.” 

You kept moving, cauterizing wounds, wrapping bandages, and handing out medication. The wall of bacta tanks filled up as the noise level rose with miners crying in agony and medical staff shouting to one another. 

“Dr. Xlana and Dr. Jaida are still indisposed. Without them, I predict a thirty percent fatality rate.” MD-476 informed, administering a bacta spray. 

You closed your eyes, feeling the pain in the room pressing against your body, squeezing your body like a vice. Your fingers itched with the desire to act, to help ease the intense cloud of agony hanging over the medstation. 

_ Never expose your abilities.  _ You heard her voice in your mind, the words that had stayed with you since you were a child.  _ Use the Force in subtle ways we’ve practiced. Never let them know the full extent of what you can do. It will make you a target.  _

“Taka,” A female Cerean cried, “I need...I need to tell Taka...I’m sorry I–” 

Her pain and despair hits you like a brick wall, shattering your thoughts. You put your hand on her head, letting thoughts of sleep calm her as you come to a decision. 

“MD,” The droid turns to you, awaiting instruction. “Assess the patients. Send the most serious cases to me. I will treat them in the private examination room.” 

Truth be told, you remember very little of what followed. When you think back on the hours you spent in that small room – healing the joints that once connected legs to bodies, flesh that once covered bone, and wounds that in all logic should have been entirely fatal – you only remember the feeling. The intense trance that comes when you leap off a tall cliff and fall for so long the fear is replaced by the sensation of gravity pulling you down and down until you land on the floor, spent. 

In the last moments of consciousness before you fell into darkness, you remember Milo’s face looming over you, shining a light into your eyes. 

“By my calculations, more than half of her patients should have died.” MD spoke to him as they lifted your limp body from the ground and laid you on the table. 

“How many did she lose?” 

“None.” 

“You might need to be recalibrated, there, my friend…” You heard nothing else as sleep covered your eyes and ears, muting the world entirely. 

Two days passed before you awoke. You trudged into work, pretending not to feel the stares on your back as you went about your work. 

“You’re not actually going to pretend it didn’t happen, right?” Milo said eventually, coming over during your lunch break. “We have to talk about this, Anania.” 

“What’s to talk about? I did my job.” You evaded, keeping your gaze on the table. 

“Modest to a fault, I see.” Milo mused. “Another addition to your list of virtues.” 

You didn’t respond, hoping he would leave you alone and stay simultaneously. It had been a long time since you’d had a friend. Even longer since you’d had more. 

“Let me buy you a drink at Zeebo’s tonight.” Milo said. 

“I’m not a big fan of cantinas...” You said. 

“Zeebo’s is low key, don’t worry.” He said. “Besides, I’ve realized that after four years, I still don’t know my best employee. Isn’t that a crime or something?” 

You smiled at him. “Of the crimes committed around here, I’d say that’s a relatively minor one.” 

He laughed. “Funny, too! We’re definitely going out tonight and celebrating your miracle-working skills.” 

You inclined your head. “Fine. But only one drink.” 

“Deal.” 

Apparently by low key, Milo meant an absence of trafficked Twi’lek dancers. Otherwise Zeebo’s checked all the boxes: loud, crowded, and seedy. Milo shouted an order over the din to the bartender and carried your drinks to a table by the wall. It wasn’t much quieter, but at least you could hear yourself think. 

“So,” Milo took a sip of his alarmingly green beverage. “Where are you from, Anania?” 

You stalled, taking a swig of your drink. Stick as close to the truth as possible, you reminded yourself, the best lies are filled with truth. The liquid burned slightly as it went down. You couldn’t decide whether you liked it or not. 

“The Inner Rim.” You said.

Milo let out a low whistle. “You’re a long way from home.” 

“You’re telling me.” You intoned, taking another drink. 

“Why Agaris?” He asked. “Why not finish your degree in the Core Worlds?” 

“I needed to get away. This seemed as good a place as any to start over.” You ran a finger along the rim of the glass.

Milo hummed. A shout from across the bar drew your attention, as a large man staggered to his feet. His face was red and he clutched a tankard tightly in his fist. His friends pulled him back down, trying to placate him. Y/N felt his anger from across the room. 

“Zeebo himself.” Milo explained with a grimace. “He hasn’t had a good day. His wife left him this morning. Paid one of the cargo runners to take her off-world. Just as well, I’ve treated her too many times for ‘falling down’ and ‘bumping into things.’”

“Good, good for her.” You nodded, remembering the patients you’ve had over the years in the same position that never made it out. 

You felt Milo staring at you, as if the blink of your eyes or the twitch of your nose would reveal your story. 

“I...that’s what I was running from too.” You said, looking down at your hands. 

It wasn’t the whole truth, but it was true enough. Milo seemed satisfied, believing he’d finally drawn you out, made you reveal yourself. He didn’t realize he was only exposing himself. As he reached forward to hold your hand and comfort you, you easily dissected his intention. 

“I’m so sorry you went through that.” He said, eyes wide and sympathetic. 

You understood his confidence. He was handsome enough, and what damaged soul could resist his kind, intent gaze. 

“Thank you.” You pulled your hand away, lifting the glass to your lips again.

As the warmth trickled down into your stomach, you felt something touch your leg under the table. You looked down, ready to kick Milo away if he tried anything. Instead you were met by two wide dark eyes. 

“Hello there,” you greeted gently, taking in the creature holding onto your pant leg. 

It was green and small, standing barely a foot off the ground, with big ears and three fingers on each tiny hand. It reached up towards you with a coo, its request crystal clear. 

You bent down and lifted it onto your lap, intrigued by the strange brown robe covering its body. The child patted your face with its hand, cooing happily. 

“What is that?” Milo asked, annoyed with the interruption. 

“I think it’s a child.” You smiled at it, patting its back. “Where did you come from, little one?” 

The child cooed again. You scan the cantina before turning to Milo. 

“What kind of parent would bring a child here?” 

The cantina was dimly lit, and yet you could feel the shadow looming over you. You saw the hands first, clad in well-made tan gloves. Your gaze tracked upward, taking in the smooth beskar, littered with a few nicks and scuffs here and there. Your gaze finally met the infamous mandalorian helmet, with its t-shaped visor and expressionless façade. The Mandalorian radiated strength, the calm of a person who knew they could kill you in an instant. You certainly weren’t going to provide a reason to test that skill.

“He finds trouble when I leave him alone.” 

A shiver ran down your back. The helmet modulated the Mandalorian’s voice, giving it a filtered quality, but you had a feeling the dulcet tone was all his own. The child babbled happily, reaching out to the stoic hunter. He picked up the child with the gentle care of a practiced parent, and you flushed with embarrassment. 

“I didn’t mean to pass judgement on your parenting skills. I apologize.” You said, staring sincerely into his visor. 

He didn’t say anything else. The Mandalorian simply inclined his head in the barest of nods before moving on. 

Milo started talking about something but you tuned him out, watching the Mandalorian walk away. You knew you shouldn’t, but you couldn’t tear your gaze away as he sat at a table in the corner. He placed the child down on the bench beside him, pushing a mug of steaming soup towards its tiny hands. The child looked back at you, trying to slide under the table and return to you. The Mandalorian’s helmet turned back in your direction. You snapped your gaze down, finding your fingernails suddenly fascinating. 

After a moment, you dared to look back up. The Mandalorian spoke to the child, head inclined and gestures firm as he ordered the little one to stay put. Y/N couldn’t help the smile that tugged at the corner of her mouth. 

“Anania!” Milo snapped his fingers in front of your face. “Are you even listening to me?” 

“I need to use the refresher,” You said absently, getting up. “Excuse me.” 

“Yeah, sure.” His tone was clipped. 

The path to the refresher took you past the Mandalorian’s table. You kept your gaze resolutely forward, as if you had no idea they were sitting there. A small burst of pride warmed your chest when you saw the child reaching for you in your peripheral vision. As you turned into the back corridor, you caught sight of another figure taking a seat across from the Mandalorian. 

You splashed water on your face, considering yourself in the mirror. At the beginning of the night, you’d been open to, even positive about the possibility of something starting between you and Milo. Now, your feelings had begun to sour. You couldn’t pinpoint why. Taking a deep breath, you walked out, determined to enjoy the night no matter what happened. 

Just before emerging back into the cantina, you froze at the sound of a name. Your name. Not ‘Anania,’ but your  _ real  _ name. You backed up several steps, pressing your back against the wall to listen. 

“Former Imperial’s offering a lot for her to be brought back alive.” A gruff voice continued. 

“How much?” You recognized the Mandalorian’s deep voice. 

“Half would buy you a whole ship made of beskar, let alone a new set of armor.” The other voice said. 

“Why offer to split it, then?” 

“I, uh–” the other hunter hesitated, “I’m not so good at the actual capturing part. I can track better than anyone in the Guild but I’m not exactly a fighter.” 

The other hunter paused, waiting for a response. The Mandalorian gave none. 

“Look, I’ve tracked her long enough to know she settled here. I just need to find where exactly. She’s Force-sensitive, so she might be using that to hide somehow or she could like, trick us with her mind.” 

“Do you have a puck?” 

“Yeah, yeah. She’s decent looking, I understand why he wants her back so bad. If I had been promised–” 

You didn’t stick around to hear the rest. As soon as the Mandalorian saw your face on the hologram, the countdown would start. Only an idiot would turn down those credits, especially when he already knew where to find the bounty. You’re only chance was to stop him from knowing where to look. 

You ran back to the refresher, locking the door behind you. There was a window above the toilet, barely big enough to crawl through. You scrambled to stand on top of the tank, pushing at the glass. It didn’t budge. 

You heard heavy footsteps in the corridor outside. Someone banged on the door to the refresher next to yours. Steeling your nerves, you pulled your arm back before smashing your elbow through the glass. 

“Kriffing kriff!” You hissed, clearing as much as you could before pulling yourself through the window. 

“In there!” You heard the other hunter yell. 

A few shards tore at your clothes, and nicked your knees as you pulled yourself through. You dropped to the ground, rolling to your feet and taking off. You sucked in cold night air, your brain working faster than your body as you tried to come up with a plan. 

If the Mandalorian was smart, he’d be shaking Milo down for information. That meant they’d head for your house or the medstation. You weighed your options. 

You turned sharply down an alleyway, cutting through the little mining town to your cottage. Inside, you moved like a whirlwind, stuffing ration packs, a first aid kit, all the credits you had and a few personal items into a sack before sprinting out the back door. 

_ Get off-world. Get off-world now.  _

You thought back to that first night, years ago, when you’d snuck out and run down to the shipyard. 

_ The shipyard.  _

Sticking to backstreets, alleys, and shadows, you ran for Port Agaris. Cargo ships loomed like great shining beacons, reflecting the light of the two moons overhead. As you approached, you slowed to a brisk walk, slipping through the tall gate silently and swiftly. 

Voices exchanged muffled words and laughter ahead of you, pilots and mechanics kicking back after a day of work. 

“Hey, Doc.” One of the mechanics, Jey, recognized you. “What brings you here at this hour?” 

You tried to keep your voice level. “Hi Jey. I need to get off-world.” 

“There’s a passenger cruiser coming next month–” 

“I need to go now. Right now.” Your pulse pounded inside your skull. 

The easy smile slipped from Jey’s face. You scrambled to ease his suspicion. 

“My mother is really sick back home.” You lied. “Is there any ship going out sooner?” 

“I’m taking an ore shipment out tomorrow morning.” One of the pilots said. “Don’t usually have passengers, though.” 

“I have credits.” You turned to him, hopeful. “I can pay. Just take me to your drop-off and I’ll find passage from there. Please. It’s an emergency.” 

The pilot was quiet for a moment. You held your breath, trying to keep your panic and desperation at bay. 

“Alright. We hit hyperspace at 0500. Don’t be late.” 

You let out a small yelp of relief. “I won’t. Thank you, thank you so much.” 

The pilot turned back to his conversation. You looked up into the sky, assessing the position of the moons. You only had five hours until departure. You just had to make until then. You retreated to the mechanic’s hangar, finding a secluded corner to curl up and hide for a while.  _ You could do it _ , you told yourself,  _ you’ve disappeared before. You can do it again. Just a few more hours.  _

You didn’t make it past two. 

You’d been drifting between sleep and consciousness when you felt a shift in the air. A tension stretched long and thin, over everything. Your head snapped up, and you were suddenly aware of the quiet that had fallen over the yard. No humming machinery, no laughter, no voices. Nothing. They’d found you. 

Not knowing what else to do, you ran. You hoped, weakly, that maybe if you made it to the cargo ship, you could figure out how to take off and fly away. 

The Mandalorian caught you on the first step out of the hangar. 

Gloved hands grabbed you, one pressed against your stomach, the other over your mouth, silencing the scream that tore its way out of your throat. You kicked backwards, trying to knock his knees out from under him as you struggled against the grip. Desperately, you bit his hand, teeth sinking uselessly into the leather. 

“Stop fighting.” He grunted as your elbow made contact with his side, hitting the small patch of chest covered only by fabric instead of beskar. 

His grip loosened momentarily, and you leapt away from him, falling to your knees. Before you could run again, you felt the barrel of a blaster touch your temple. 

“I can bring you in warm, or I can bring you in cold.” The Mandalorian warned. 

A pair of boots came into view in front of you. The other hunter grabbed your arms roughly, pulling you up. He pulled his own blaster, digging it into your side. 

“You’re worth more alive, but they didn’t say anything about injured, so I’d be careful if I were you.” He warned, breath hot against your neck. 

His hand trailed up your hip, grazing the swell of your breast. You grimaced, repulsed. The Mandalorian stepped closer, as if to intervene. 

“I’ll cooperate.” You said quickly, spitting the words over your shoulder at the other hunter. “Just don’t fucking touch me, creep.” 

“Watch it.” He hissed, but let you pull just far enough away so the blaster was at the base of your spine. 

“I’ll take her in the Razor Crest.” The Mandalorian walked past, leading the way through the yard to his ship. 

“Nice ship,” the other hunter said. “Good condition for such an old model. Wish I had one of these...” 

The entrance ramp lowered. You noticed a pack on the Mandalorian’s back as it shifted of its own accord. A green head emerged, fixing his big eyes on her. It let out a distressed gurgle, reaching towards you again. The Mandalorian hushed him, taking the child out of the pack and placing it on a bench. 

The other hunter spoke casually, “Listen, Mando, I think we need to re-negotiate the rewards–” 

He moved quickly, firing the blaster under your arm. The bolt struck the Mandalorian in the side, the same pace where you’d hit him a few moments earlier. The bounty hunter flew backwards, hitting the ground hard. You covered your mouth with your hand, shocked tears pricking at your eyes. 

“ –I think I’ll take the credits _ and _ your ship.” The other hunter mused, wrinkling his nose at the despairing cries of the child. “Not the little greenie though, he’s too ugly.” 

The hunter leveled the blaster again, taking aim. You’re heart hammered against your ribs and adrenaline coursed through your body. You leapt forward, grabbing the child and curving your body around its smaller one. You closed your eyes, shielding its tiny body as the blast sounded. 

You knew shock dulled the pain of terrible injuries, but you weren’t expecting to feel nothing at all. 

You opened your eyes, looking over your shoulder. The other hunter lay dead on the floor, a single shot to the head snuffing out his life. You followed the trajectory of the blast to find the Mandalorian on the ground, lowering the weapon with a shaking hand. He groaned, the back of his helmet hitting the floor. 

You felt the twinge of impulse in your stomach as you looked down the ramp at the night sky. The air felt crisp and clear, free and full of opportunity. 

“Kriff.” 

You turned back, putting the child down and rushing to the Mandalorian. You knelt beside him, pushing his hands away from his side. 

“What–” He groaned at the pain. 

“Shhh.” You covered the wound with your hands, applying pressure. 

You closed your eyes, picturing the torn skin and the pain he must be feeling. You thought about a sheet of peace and calm covering his wound, cooling the pain until it went away. 

You imagined healthy, smooth skin moving and growing to cover the wound while the tissues knit themselves back together and the veins re-connected, sending the blood back on its natural path through his body. You heard him let out a sigh of relief. Your eyelids felt heavy as your hands slipped away from the Mandalorian

You heard the child cooing as you fell, unconscious before your head even hit the metal floor. 


	2. The Bounty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "One thing ties them together—credits. The pursuit of lucre motivates every species that recognizes a monetary system."
> 
> ―Feltipern Trevagg

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fair warning everyone, my account is steadily becoming solely dedicated to Pedro Pascal and his filmography.   
> Nyvera, my intrepid beta reader understands. Show her some love :D

_ Hyperspace - The Razor Crest _

Tiny hands patted your cheeks, the adorable rhythm beckoning you back into consciousness. You shot up, the world spinning slightly. You tried to stand, legs tangled in a brown threadbare blanket. You stumbled across the small, cold room, pressing your nose against the window. 

Outside, the universe passed by. Stars twinkled and flashed as the ship cruised across the galaxy. You stared into the darkness, faced with how impossibly small and insignificant you were. You’d felt all these feelings before, the first time you’d ever traveled off-world. The sheer enormity of it all had blown you away. It was hard to dwell on troubles in the face of something so vast and beautiful. And ruthless. 

_ Never forget the desolation, the barrenness of the expanse. Don’t relive the past.  _

A small, green hand wrapped around your index finger. You bent to pick up the child, holding him up to look at the stars with you. He took it in, the white pinpricks of light reflected in his big dark eyes. 

“It is something, isn’t it?” You said. 

The child cooed, reaching forward to touch the window. The cold glass grew cloudy, leaving the imprint of three fingers. You reached out, resting your hand beside the child’s, making your own mark. 

“You’re awake.” 

The Mandalorian stood in the doorway, filling it entirely with the width of his shoulders and the bulk of his armor. He’d put on a fresh shirt, keeping you from seeing how his wound had healed. He was alive and standing though, so that was a good sign. 

The child reached for him. He stepped inside and you met him halfway, passing the baby over. The child pulled gently at the material around the Mandalorian’s neck, gurgling. 

“Where are we going?” You asked. 

“I don’t need to tell you.” 

He was taking you back. Back to them. Back to  _ him _ . 

Of course he was. Why shouldn’t he? You didn’t know each other. He was sure to be paid more than he’d ever been before. It made sense. In his position you would probably have done the same. Still, a small part of you had hoped…

You looked down at your feet, wishing the lump growing in your throat would go away. The Mandalorian seemed uncomfortable, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. You took a deep breath, keeping your emotions in check. Crying wouldn’t get you anywhere or help anyone. 

“I know I’m not exactly in a position to be making requests,” You said, looking where you thought his eyes would be under the visor. “But could I have some water? I haven’t had anything to drink since the cantina.”

The Mandalorian inclined his head in another half-nod. You followed him out of what you realized now were sleeping quarters and down a ladder to another level of the ship. He led you to a tiny kitchenette, armed with the most basic of ration packs and a small sink. You didn’t bother him for a cup, simply running the water into your hands and drinking. You splashed a little on your face, wiping the remaining grime sleep away. 

The Mandalorian stood a few feet away, observing. Probably keeping an eye on you so you didn’t try to escape or sabotage the ship, you realized. You took one more drink, unsure if you’d be allowed to come back, before turning to face him again. 

He led you past the cockpit with its dials and buttons, and down another ladder to the bottom of the ship. You recognized this part, noticing the grated floor of the entrance ramp. An empty rack lined the far wall with a strange alcove at one end. The whole floor radiated negative emotions, fear, pain, and death. 

“You can wait here.” He said. 

Without much of a choice, you complied, taking a seat on the freezing metal bench. The Mandalorian walked over to another wall, opening a small compartment. He put the child down inside of it, among a few pillows. 

“Don’t touch anything.” The Mandalorian warned. 

You weren’t entirely sure if the comment was directed at you or the child, but before you could ask, he was already climbing the ladder to the upper level. The child wasted no time, hopping down from his nook and toddling back over to you. You picked him up and held him in your lap, comforted by the feeling of being wanted, being liked by such a small and innocent thing. He tugged on your hair, putting a few strands in his mouth. 

“You, little womp rat, are in serious need of something to play with that isn’t attached to anyone else.” You said. 

The child babbled at you, as if in agreement. The more you thought about it, the better the idea sounded. You looked around the space, assessing how likely the Mandalorian was to notice if something went missing. 

_ Yes!  _ You spotted your pack in the corner. 

You put the child down while you walked over to the bag. You pulled out the first aid kit, grabbing a needle and some thread. Then you grabbed your extra shirt, comparing the grey to the brown you were already wearing. Making your way back over, you turned the child around and pulled the shirt over your head, swapping it for the warmer, cleaner one. 

The child watched intently as you ripped the brown one into strips. His big eyes followed as you folded, twisted, and sewed. You worked for almost an hour, trying to get the likeness as close as you could. Eventually, you were satisfied. 

“Here you go, little one.” You said, presenting the child with the creation. 

He took it eagerly, turning it over in his hands to inspect it before getting right down to business. The child tottered across the floor, waving it in the air and cooing to it. You sat and watched with a smile. 

“Is that an Ewok?” 

You jumped slightly at the sound of the Mandalorian’s voice. You wondered how someone could wear so much metal and somehow make no noise at all. 

“It’s supposed to be.” You said, pretending to scratch your ankle so you could slip the needle into your boot without notice. “He needed a toy.” 

“I told you not to touch anything.” 

“It was my shirt. I don’t think that counts.” 

The child toddled over to the Mandalorian, lifting up the doll. The Mandalorian accepted it, inspecting the needlework before giving it back to the child. 

“What is his name?” You asked, watching him play. 

“He has no name.” 

You stared into the shining beskar of his helmet. “Like father, like son.” 

“We’re almost there.” The Mandalorian turned away, climbing back up the ladder. 

You sat back down, losing the fight against the panic creeping up into your chest. You’d always known deep down that this would happen. You knew he would find you. He’d promised, after all. 

_ The Inner Rim - Bastantha _

_ “You cannot escape me, my pet. I will always find you.” _

The words echoed in your mind as you walked down the ramp and saw  _ him _ . Your heart pounded in fear at the sight of his white hair and menacing smile. The Mandalorian was with you every step, hand held firm to your upper arm as he escorted you out of the Razor Crest. If it weren’t for his grip, you feared you might collapse. 

Moff Arceales held out his hands, an inviting gesture. The shabby stormtroopers at his side were less than hospitable, pointing blasters at you. You clenched your jaw, desperately wishing you could run away or fight or die, but you couldn’t. You could only walk, one step at a time, closer to your doom. The Mandalorian stopped a few feet away, keeping you close. 

“Oh, how I have missed you, my pet.” Arceales said, stepping towards you. 

The stormtroopers lowered their weapons but remained at attention. Arceales caressed your cheek with the back of his hand, making you want to crawl out of your skin. He looked at the Mandalorian’s hand on your arm, irritation clouding his features. 

“The payment.” The Mandalorian said, by way of explanation. 

“Yes, yes, of course. Give the man his money.” Arceales waved his hand to the troopers as if the fortune he was about to hand over were of no consequence.

A trooper advanced, carrying two thick cases. He presented them to Arceales, who opened them so the Mandalorian could verify the contents. 

“It is all there, Mandalorian.” Areales said. “You have my word. Now let me have my bride.” 

Your breath shook as the Mandalorian let go of you. Arceales smiled, pulling you towards him. He held your face in his hands, studying you for a moment. 

You heard the slap before you felt it, the echoing smack of his hand across your cheek. The pain registered afterwards, as you turned your head back, bracing for another. 

“That was for leaving me.” Arceales growled. “I know it wasn’t your fault, my darling. That infernal healer woman deluded you. But she’s long dead now. 

He rubbed the stinging patch of skin where he’d struck you. “You should have come back.” 

You stared straight ahead, silent. Your head cracked to the other side as he struck you again. 

“I said you should have come back.” He repeated, voice low and dark. 

“I should have come back.” You said, voice weak. “I’m sorry, sir.” 

“Good girl.” He squeezed your hip. “It is a pity your parents didn’t live to see our wedding day, pet, but then they weren’t all that enthusiastic about the match, as I recall.” 

_ I hate you. I hate you. I hate you.  _

Your eyes burned as memories flashed in your mind. Your parents’ bodies on the floor, faces pale and eyes lifeless. Satele turning to you and holding your face in her hands, telling you how you would escape. 

Hot tears slipped down your cheeks. Areales smiled his crooked smiled and wiped them away with his wrinkled fingers. 

“Don’t cry, my pet, we will be married before the morning. And finally I shall have you.” He nodded to the Mandalorian. “Your work here is done, bounty hunter.” 

You inhaled sharply, turning to Arceales with a wild, desperate look in your eye. “May I speak to him for a moment? I wish to thank him...for returning me to my proper home.” 

He looked between you and the bounty hunter for a moment before letting you go. “Yes, alright. But be quick.” 

“Thank you.” 

You took a few shaky steps towards the Mandalorian. He watched you silently, and for the first time, you wondered what was under the mask. Was he human? He seemed to be, but how would you know. Was he bored by this? Did he feel bad for you? Was he thinking about how he was going to spend his reward money? 

“It would,” you swallowed, “It would bring me great peace of mind if you would use just a small portion of that money to buy the child a new set of clothing. I would...I would be happy knowing he’s comfortable and happy exploring the stars with you.” 

The Mandalorian nodded haltingly, as if surprised by your statement. 

“I will.” He promised. 

“Good.” You smiled at him, a real, teeth-showing, radiant smile. “Take care, Mandalorian.” 

You took another deep breath, turning back to Arceales and his troops. They led you away from the landing pad and into the city where you were born. The city you hoped you’d never return to. You heard the thrum of the engine behind you as the Razor Crest took off and flew away. 

Three female Lanai helped you into your wedding robes, chattering to each other. You listened, but you heard nothing that was said between them. You moved as if in a trance, numbly slipping the blue fabric over your arms, letting them drape it around your shoulders. You sat, staring straight ahead as they placed flowers in your hair. You refused to let them take off your boots, insisting that you wear them during the ceremony. 

You’d wait until he was vulnerable, you’d decided, in the bedroom as he prepared to force himself on you. As he approached, you’d pull the needle from your boot and go for the eyes. You hadn’t planned past that point, but you weren’t sure it mattered anyway. 

The Lanai’s chattering grew louder, pulling you from your thoughts. Footsteps ran past the door, and voices shouted down the hallway. The telltale sound of blaster-fire reached your ears, getting closer. The Lanai began to scream, backing up into the corner of the room in a cluster. The blaster-fire ceased, and one set of footsteps approached the door. 

You stood your ground with the reckless bravery of a woman who had nothing left to lose. The door swung open, revealing a familiar beskar helmet. 

“She’s coming with me.” He pointed the blaster at the Lanai in warning. 

They didn’t try to move, merely screaming louder than before. You didn’t look back as you followed the Mandalorian out of the dressing room. A new wave of stormtroopers thundered around the corner. The Mandalorian pushed you behind him, flattening you both against the wall as the soldiers fired. He waited until the right moment to pop out and fire a few well-aimed shots of his own, taking them down with ease. 

“Stay close to me.” He instructed, guiding you out the back door. 

You ran together down an alleyway and then another. With a giddy sense of exhilaration you remembered running through streets like these to get  _ away  _ from the Mandalorian. Oh, how things change. 

One more turn and the Razor Crest came into view. You followed him inside, scrambling up the ladder to the cockpit. You spun a little in the co-pilot’s chair. You had absolutely no flying experience or training, but you were more than happy to obey his rapid directions, helping start the engines. Without a moment to lose, the Mandalorian punched the engine hard, sending you into hyperdrive. The stars expanded before your eyes as you sped further and further away. 

You collapsed back into the chair with a breathless laugh. You turned your head, gazing at the Mandalorian. 

“Why did you come back?”

He turned to face you, and you knew he was looking into your eyes from behind the visor. 

“I need a babysitter.” 


	3. The Arrangement

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You settle into your new life traveling with the Mandalorian and his child.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't believe we're over halfway to the end! Thank you as always to Nyvera for her help. <3

_ "How uncharacteristic of one of your reputation. You have taken both commission and payment. Is it not the code of the Guild that these events are now forgotten?" _

_ - _ The Client,  _ The Mandalorian _ , “Chapter 2: The Child”

  


The arrangement wasn’t quite as simple as the Mandalorian claimed. In an ideal world, the three of them would fall into an easy routine— you taking care of the child while he’s out working. Rinse and repeat on a new planet. At first, everything seemed to run smoothly. But the world, the entire galaxy in fact, was far from ideal. 

  


_ Outer Rim - Endor  _

  


“Stay here.” The Mandalorian instructed as he walked down the ramp on your first day. 

Your heart sank slightly, only getting the barest glimpse of the unfamiliar planet beyond— green trees, warm air, and the buzz of insects— before the door closed, sealing you inside with the child. 

The first day wasn’t too hard. You had hours and hours to explore the ship without the Mandalorian’s expressionless silence looming behind you. The child gestured happily to his favorite corners and nooks, as if giving you a special tour. 

You weren’t entirely sure what to feed the child, but he eagerly snatched a ration pack from your hand, sucking out the contents. You ate your own, observing him with a bemused smile. 

The child spent the afternoon with his toy while you moved what little personal items you’d left in your pack to a shelf in the cargo hold. 

The Mandalorian returned after nightfall. You sat up when the ramp opened, hopeful. He bypassed you entirely, wordlessly grabbing a ration pack of his own and disappearing into his sleeping quarters. You didn’t try to follow him. 

  


_ Outer Rim - Tatooine _

“Stay here.” 

He left again at the next stop without a word about when he would return. He came a day and a half later with three new bounty pucks. 

  


_ Wild Space - Galzez _

“Stay—”

“Here. I know.” You finished for him. 

He nodded, leaving without another word as usual. 

This new planet was a small moon covered in grassland and farming villages. You watched the Mandalorian carve a thin path through the tall grass through the cockpit window. The child climbed up into your lap, and your hands fell around his small form instinctively. The brown fabric of his robes felt stiff to the touch, stained and grimey. You sighed, picking up the child and carrying him with you to the cargo hold. 

You undressed, taking off the layers of ornate blue wedding garb you’d worn since the night of the escape. You picked up the blanket you’d been sleeping under on the bench, wrapping it around your body as a temporary cover. You laid the fabric out across the bench, plans and designs formulating in your head. 

The child occupied himself with his doll while you ripped and folded the blue fabric. After a little more than an hour, one large square of blue cloth became a new robe, complete with an extra wide hood to cover his ears in cold weather. 

“Come here, you little womp rat.” You chased him around for a moment before he stopped wiggling long enough for you to change his clothes. 

The child cooed, enjoying his new outfit while you scrubbed the old robe in the sink, hanging it to dry in the warm sunlight of the window. 

While you fashioned pants and a shirt for yourself from the remaining fabric, you considered the situation. This way of life would not be sustainable. You could not remain on this ship for the rest of your life. You’d surely go insane, spending every day locked inside with filtered air and nothing to do but sew and eat a ration pack a day. Your mind would need nourishment, your body would need exercise. 

You weren’t a prisoner here, exactly. The Mandalorian always said ‘stay here,’ but didn’t that suggest you had a choice to do otherwise? You could always make a run for it when he came back and try to make a new life on whatever planet this was. 

You looked at the child babbling gently to his Ewok toy, imagining him on the ship without you, bored and alone. The image made your heart twist. 

_ No child should grow up that way.  _

You thought about the love and care in the way the Mandalorian held the child. He clearly wanted the best for the child, but he had no idea what he was doing,. You could work with that. 

Growing up under the thumb of the Empire, you’d learned the value of waiting until the right moment, so you held your tongue for another few days. You obeyed when the Mandalorian told you to take the child to the upper levels. You even covered his ears to muffle the screams while the Mandalorian froze his bounty in carbonite, hanging the slabs next to your bench in the cargo bay. You continued on without complaint, sleeping beside the aura of fear and watching over the child until you returned to Tatooine. 

Guild lackeys unloaded the bounties, before handing the Mandalorian his payment. You watched the exchange, pulling up the neckline of your shirt to shield your face from the sand blowing everywhere. The Mandalorian nodded to the others before stalking back to the ship. You followed him into the cockpit, sitting in the co-pilot’s chair. 

“We need to discuss our arrangement.” You said as the engines roared to life. 

The Mandalorian didn’t reply, he merely punched the accelerator, sending the ship into hyperdrive. 

“I’ve done my best to care for the child with what we have on board, but this won’t work long-term.” You continued, “I—the child and I both need to leave the ship sometimes. Fresh air and exercise are necessary for his development, and speaking candidly, also my sanity. A small budget for a wider variety of food stores would ensure he’s getting the proper nutrition, and if we continue to visit different planets as we have, he’ll need clothing appropriate for the weather...and so will I.” 

The Mandalorian remained silent, leaning forward to twist a dial on the navigation console. 

“If you’re worried about the money, I have some of my own credits saved and I know how to fashion clothes from cloth, so we’d save the expense of a tailor.” 

After a few moments of silence, the Mandalorian finally spoke, helmet turned to face you. “Tomorrow we’ll stop at Horuz for repairs and fuel. You and the child can come with me to find lodging.” 

You nodded, watching the stars streak past. “I’ll be in the cargo hold if you need me.” 

  


_ Outer Rim - Horuz _

You walked, with the child in your pack, through the modest city of Crofinssa. At the local cantina, you stood by the window while the Mandalorian reserved two rooms. You watched people bustling down the bumpy stone street, carrying baskets on their heads or riding in nerf-drawn carts. The child peered over your shoulder, fascinated by the sights and sounds. 

“Here is your room key.” The Mandalorian said, handing you a small square of durasteel. “There is a market a short walk down that main street there.” 

“Excellent.” You smiled. 

To your surprise, the Mandalorian fell into step beside you as you headed out in the direction of the market.

“You don’t have business to take care of?” 

“Not today.” 

Crofinissans gave you a wide berth, eyeing the Mandalorian with a mix of fear and awe. The sun glinted off the beskar, and if he wasn’t such an intimidating figure, you might say the Mandalorian sparkled. The crowded market provided slightly more cover, stares coming only from those closest to you. You browsed a stall displaying beautiful hand-sewn cloth, running your hands over the different shades and patterns. 

“How much for two yards of this one?” You asked, gesturing to a sturdy grey fabric. 

“Thirty credits.” 

“I’ll give you ten.” You said, “Fibers like these are prone to fading.” 

“Twenty-five is the best I can do.” 

“Twenty, or I take my business elsewhere.” You crossed your arms, staring the vendor down. 

“Sold.” 

While the vendor cut and wrapped the fabric, you counted out the proper sum. When you offered the payment, however, a gloved hand grabbed your wrist, stopping you. You turned to the Mandalorian, confusion clouding your features. He pulled out a handful of credits, passing them to the vendor. 

“I believe I promised to use the credits from your reward to buy clothes for the child.” The Mandalorian said, tucking the roll of cloth under his arm. 

“I’m glad to see you’re a man of your word, Mando.” You smiled at him. 

The three of you ventured further into the market. The Mandalorian was quite helpful. Vendors were much more susceptible to bargains when you had a bounty hunter at your shoulder. You picked up some fruit and traditional Horuzian bread to stock the kitchen. You handed the child a piece of melon over your shoulder while the Mandalorian surveyed a set of knives made by a metalworker. While he paid for a thin durasteel blade, you admired the array of necklaces hanging nearby. You ran your fingers over one silver chain, letting the simple tree pendant sit in your palm before letting go. Jewelry was an extravagance you couldn’t indulge in. Not anymore. 

“What kind of baby is that?” 

You turned around, faced with a gaggle of children, all staring at the child with curiosity. You looked at the Mandalorian, unsure of how to answer. He just shrugged, turning back to speak to the metalworker. 

“I’m not sure.” 

“How can you not know what kind of baby you have?” One of the children asked. 

“He’s not exactly mine, you see. Babies don’t always grow up with the people who gave birth to them.” 

The children nodded, considering your words. Someone shouted from several stalls over, beckoning them. The group took off, tripping and shoving. 

“Kids, huh?” You said. 

The child gurgled, patting your shoulder. You decided to take it as an agreement as you pulled the straps of your pack, trying to adjust it so the weight of the child was better distributed. 

“I’ll carry him.” The Mandalorian said. 

“Thank you,” You said, taking the pack off and setting the child at your feet. “See what you can fit in here. I don’t want you to carry everything.” 

The Mandalorian packed the cloth and the food away. He looked down, doing a double-take when he noticed the child was gone. 

“Oh, not again. Get back here!” The Mandalorian groaned, jogging a few feet away to grab the child before he was completely lost in the bustle of the marketplace. 

He walked back to you, holding tightly to the child. You bit your lip, trying not to laugh. 

“Let’s go.” You sensed a hint of embarrassment rolling off his shoulders as he led the way back to the cantina. 

For a moment, you wondered what he looked like when he blushed. 

You parted ways for the evening in the corridor outside your respective rooms. The child’s sleep pod always remained with the Mandalorian, and tonight was no exception. Not that you were complaining. You cared deeply for the child, but a few hours to yourself were more than welcome. 

In the comforting quiet of your room, you dumped the pack out onto the bed for sorting and repacking before your return to the Razor Crest. When you picked up the grey fabric to refold it, something shiny fell out of it, bouncing slightly on the mattress. 

You picked up the unfamiliar object, breath catching slightly in your throat when you realized what it was. You clasped the silver necklace around your neck, enjoying the gentle pressure of the pendant above your heart. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> He makes me so soft.... :D


	4. The Storm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You and the Mandalorian grow closer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was my favorite chapter to write

" _ When one chooses to walk the Way of the Mandalore, you are both hunter and prey. How can one be a coward if one chooses this way of life? _ "

―The Armorer

_ Hyperspace - The Razor Crest _

“Do you know how to fight?” 

You look up from the book you were reading to the child, surprised, not so much at the question, but that he was initiating a conversation. 

“I mean, I can throw a punch.” You said, pulling the child’s hand away from an important looking button on the control panel. 

“That’s not the same as fighting.” 

“I’m scrappy.” You said. “I took you on, remember?” 

“You had one lucky hit before I put a blaster to your head.” He corrected you. 

The Mandalorian pushed a few buttons, locking in the autopilot. He stood up from the captain’s chair, gesturing for you to follow him. You complied, joining him in the cargo hold. He pushed your bench up against the wall, clearing a space in the middle. 

He faced you, stepping back with one leg and bending his knees in a ready position. 

“Attack me.” 

“What? Are you crazy?” 

“You’re not going to hurt me.” He assured you. 

You sighed, but stepped your leg back too, mirroring his stance. You bounced a little on the balls of your feet, contemplating the best strategy. 

“Don’t think.” He said, “Just go for it.” 

You feigned left before leaping at the Mandalorian, aiming for the unprotected part of his neck. He caught your punch easily, pushing you back. You ducked under his arm, kicking at his knee. He grabbed your ankle this time, twisting your leg until you toppled. 

The Mandalorian caught you before you hit the floor, strong hands helping you to your feet. He gripped your shoulders gently, and you felt his gaze through the helmet. 

“If you’re ever in danger and I’m not there, I want you to run.” He said, “But if it comes down to it, you need to know at least the basics of combat. Let’s start with your defensive stance...” 

You worked for hours in the cargo bay. You concentrated, trying to get it all right, down to the minutiae. Your focus only drifted once, when you were practicing your punches. The Mandalorian moved to stand behind you, pressing against your back as he adjusted your stance. His hands were warm as he moved your arms and nudged your thigh. It took more willpower than you’d like to admit to paying attention to his words while he touched you. 

_ Snap out of it! _ You chided yourself.

You took a deep breath and getting back into it, drilling moves until you were sure you could get out a choke hold in your sleep. You brushed sweat-slicked hair away from your face, breathing heavily from the exertion. 

“You’re doing great.” the Mandalorian said, getting back into the ready position. “Now put it all together.” 

Without warning, he ran at you. You ducked, dropping into a roll. You sprang back up behind him, grabbing his arm and twisting it behind his back. He didn’t hold back, throwing his full weight against you as he struggled against your grasp. Your mind spun as you tried to think of the next move, distracting you from the boot headed for your knee. He knocked you to the floor, pinning you down. 

Your breath came out in shallow pants as you looked up at him in frustration. He leaned down, and you felt the beskar brush your nose. 

“Don’t think.” He repeated. 

“Okay.” 

You punched him in the neck, hard enough to catch him off guard, but not enough to do any lasting damage. He reeled back, losing balance long enough for you to push him back, flipping your positions. In one fluid motion, you straddled him, pulling his own knife out of his boot and pressing it against his throat. He let his head tip back until the back of the helmet hit the floor. 

“Not bad.” He chuckled, hands falling at your waist. 

You laughed, exhilarated and exhausted in equal measure. He lifted you off, and you helped him to his feet. 

“Since I won,” You grinned, “I think I deserve the sonic shower first.” 

“It was a fake fight!” He protested, but you were already gone, your laughter echoing through the ship. 

_ Wild Space - Kalee _

You were starting to get worried. You paced back and forth across the cargo hold, watching the sun dipping closer to the horizon. The Mandalorian had been gone for nearly two days. He’d promised to return before midday on the second. 

“Where are you?” You whispered into the air, hugging your arms to your chest.

The child, at least, seemed unbothered. He played with you in the grass beside the ship all day and fell asleep easily. He had no conception of the possibility that the Mandalorian might not come back. You, meanwhile, were strangled by that thought. 

_ What had his client said? _

You tried to remember the words you’d overheard in the cantina as you sat with the child a few tables away. 

_ Something about a former Imperial operative. Or an assassin? _

You couldn’t remember. The child had tipped his bowl of soup over at that point, spilling the hot liquid onto your lap. You were sure the Mandalorian had been laughing at you from under the helmet. You could remember that, at least. How helpful. 

You were on the verge of pulling on your pack going out to look for him when you saw the faint gleam of beskar coming out of the twilight. Your relief was short lived, however, as you watched him stumble. His pain hit you then, making your chest tighten. You started running immediately, closing the distance between you. 

“Where are you hurt?” You asked, hooking his arm around your shoulder. 

“I’ll be fine.” He grunted, teeth clenched behind the visor. 

“Where are you hurt?” You repeated, more of a command than a question. 

“My leg is the worst.” He admitted. 

You helped him up the ramp, guiding him to the bench. He sat, letting out a groan of pain as he extended his leg. You knelt in front of him, tugging his boot off. You started to roll up his pant leg, trying to clear the wound of anything that could transfer infection. Closing your eyes, you put your hands over the deep gash across his shin. 

“Stop.” His voice was strained. 

You opened your eyes, looking at him in confusion and concern. “I can heal you.” 

“It drains you.” He said, “Use the cauterizer.” 

You sighed, getting up to gather supplies, grabbing the cauterizer and some bandages. You returned to your spot on the floor, flicking the tool on. 

“At least let me do something about the pain.” You pleaded, looking up into the blank visor. 

“Fine.” He managed, “Just get it over with.” 

You steadied his leg with one hand, letting thoughts of comfort and relief flow through your fingertips as you lowered the tool to his skin. His fingers gripped the edge of the bench tightly, but he stayed quiet while you closed the wound. You both sat back, breathing heavily when you finished. 

“How did it happen?” You asked, using a bacta spray before tearing a strip of bandage with your teeth and covering the gash.

“The target evaded me a few times. When I finally found him, he put up a bit of a fight.” 

“Still lost, though.” You mused. “Any more injuries I should look at?” 

“There’s a small cut on my shoulder.” He said, prodding the area and hissing as he touched it. 

You stood up, moving closer to inspect the wound. The dark brown of his cowl hid the blood well, but you found the smaller gash. 

“I need to clean it.” You said, unclasping his chestplate. “You’ll need to take off your shirt.” 

He didn’t move. 

“Mando, come on. It could get infected–” 

“Turn around and don’t turn back until I tell you.” He said, tone deadly serious. 

“What?” 

“Just do as I say.” 

“Fine.” You stood up and faced the other wall, arms crossed like a petulant child. 

You heard a quiet hiss behind you, like air escaping a storage tank. He grunted slightly the wound protesting against the movement as he removed his shirt. You heard the hiss again, followed by a faint click. 

“Turn around.” 

_ Oh.  _

Shame flared within you at the immediate pang of desire that struck you at the sight of the Mandalorian. You knew he was human but somehow you hadn’t expected… 

_ Toned _ , you decided. Toned was the right word to describe him. It made sense, wearing all that armor alone was bound to build up muscle, not to mention the physical demands of his job. 

_ Speaking of which… _

Scars of all shapes and sizes decorated his arms and torso. Anyone else might have found them repulsive, but you were strangely fascinated. You felt the oddest desire to know where each came from, to touch them gently as you–

You cleared your throat, fixing your gaze back up at the cut on his neck. You walked back over, trying to keep your face as expressionless as his visor. You spritzed the cut with bacta spray and covered it with a bandage. 

“There,” You said. “All done.” 

Heat radiated off of the Mandalorian, along with an emotion you couldn’t quite identify. You let your hand linger for a moment longer on his shoulder, soaking it in. He inhaled, the breath haltingly slightly in his chest. 

You withdrew your hand, looking up into his visor hesitantly. “Are you still in pain?” 

“No.” He breathed. “No, I’m not.” 

You wondered what he looked like under his helmet. Was he looking at you? It certainly felt like it. Was he upset with you for touching him? Or…

He stepped back, putting some distance between your bodies. The Mandalorian picked up his shirt and armor, holding them with his uninjured arm. 

“Good night, Y/N” He said gently, walking past you to the ladder.

_ Mid Rim - Naboo _

_ “The Mandalorians—known in Mando'a as the Mando'ade, or "Children of Mandalore"—were a nomadic group of clan-based people consisting of members from multiple species and multiple genders, all bound by a common culture….”  _

You turned the page, taking in the smell of old paper and knowledge surrounding the University Library. You flipped further trying to find what you were looking for. 

_“The Way of the Mandalore involved protecting fellow Mandalorians, and wearing a_ _helmet_ _at all times. The Way stated that if a Mandalorian removed their helmet in front of another living being,_ _they were no longer permitted to wear it.”_

You let your head rest against the bookshelf behind you as you processed the information. You thought about that night from weeks before, the pieces clicking into place. 

_ “Turn around and don’t turn back until I tell you.” _

He’d removed his helmet, you realized. You could have easily turned around and looked at him, seen his face, and desecrated his way of life in an instant. Pride warmed your chest as you considered the deep trust he placed in you at that moment. 

The child stirred beside you, murmuring in his sleep. You knew you didn’t have much more time before he awoke, so you quickly closed the tome and searched for another, seeking the other part of your quest. 

That night, a lightning storm raged outside, the white bolts reflected against the metal. You thought about the Way of Mandalore as you lay awake on your bench in the cargo hold. Growing up, you’d heard about Mandalorians, but they were always shrouded in a layer of fear. A nameless, faceless group associated with violence and mystery. 

Absently playing with your silver tree pendant, you finally saw the beauty of Mandalore. The creed allowed Mandalorians to choose their own families, providing a home for lost and otherwise doomed foundlings within the clan. There was something rare and lovely, you thought, about a society based on honor. 

Thunder clapped outside, covering the gentle footsteps on the ladder. Not that you ever heard the Mandalorian coming anyway. You sat up quickly at the feeling of his hand on your shoulder, heart hammering in surprise. 

“The child will not go to sleep.” 

The exhaustion in his tone was palpable. His feet were bare and his helmet the only armor on his body. His long-sleeve shirt was rumpled. You could almost hear the unspoken plea underneath his words. 

_ Help.  _

“The storm?” You asked, standing. 

“He’s afraid of the thunder.” The Mandalorian explained, “Normally he’s fine if I let him sleep in my bed, but tonight…” 

“I’m on it.” You said, heading up to the top level. 

The child reached out as soon as he saw you, big eyes shining with tears. You scooped him up, rocking him back and forth until his whimpers quieted. You sat down on the bed, rubbing his back in soothing circles. 

“I’ll stay in the cargo hold tonight.” The Mandalorian said, turning to leave. 

The child began to cry again, reaching out to the Mandalorian. 

“I think he wants both of us.” You said. “Is that…?” 

“Fine.” The Mandalorian sighed, too tired to bother. 

You slipped under the blanket, moving to the far side of the small bed until your back hit the cold wall of the ship. You tucked the child in beside you while the Mandalorian lay down on the other side of the bed. You faced inward, keeping your hand over the child’s stomach to remind him you weren’t going anywhere. The Mandalorian lay on his side, helmet facing you. 

Thunder rolled across the sky, making the child shrink away. You and the Mandalorian reached for him at the same moment, hands colliding over the child’s stomach. Your breath caught slightly at the feeling of his touch without the leather of his gloves. Hoping he couldn’t see your blush in the dim light, you moved your hand to the child’s head, brushing back his wispy hair. You sang softly, trying to draw his attention away from the storm, snippets of an old lullaby your mother used to sing to you. Steadily, his breathing began to even out until his eyes fell closed, sound asleep. 

Your eyes remained open, staring at the Mandalorian. His visor remained as unreadable as ever. You wondered what he looked like when he slept.  _ Was he asleep now? _

“What?” he whispered. 

_ Evidently not.  _

“I was…” You wondered if you should mention it. “The child and I visited the library today. I did some reading...I think I found out what he is.” 

“He is a foundling.” 

“I know. And one day he’ll be a Mandalorian.” You said. “But he’s also a very rare species. The only other known on record was a male named Yoda.” 

The Mandalorian was quiet, considering your words before he finally spoke. “Yodito.” 

“Hmm?” 

“We could...we could call him Yodito.” He said, unsure.

“I love it.” You said. “Yodito.” 

You rolled onto your back, grinning at the ceiling. A few moments of silence passed before you turned back, opening your mouth to speak. 

“Go to sleep.” He ordered. 

Somehow, you knew he was smiling underneath the mask. 

You woke up to the warmth of sunlight speckled across your face. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d been so comfortable or well-rested. Keeping your eyes closed, you wanted to enjoy the feeling for just a little longer. You’d been sleeping on a cold bench for so long you forgot how wonderful a soft bed and a warm blanket could be.

Although...blankets didn’t usually breathe. 

You blinked slowly as the world came into focus. At first, you were met with black fabric you were gripping gently in your sleep. You craned your head upwards to find the familiar beskar of a helmet. At your movement, the Mandalorian shifted. His arms tightened around your waist, tucking you closer into him. 

Your eyes widened and your heart rate picked up, delighted and panicked at the contact in equal measure. While you contemplated the moral implications of snuggling further into his unconscious embrace, the child’s voice from the other side of the room drew your attention. 

The Mandalorian inhaled deeply, parental instinct drawing him out of his dreams. Still half-asleep, he didn’t let go of you. He just turned to check so see Yodito sitting safe and happy in his sleep pod before turning back as if your place in his arms was the most natural thing in the world. It took him another moment before the reality of the situation dawned on him. He untangled his arms from you quickly, sitting up. You were relieved to sense only nervous embarrassment from him, rather than repulsion or worse–regret. 

“Good morning.” You said, looking out the window. “The storm must have passed overnight.” 

He didn’t reply. The Mandalorian merely got up from the bed and stalked away to put on his armor. You swung your legs over the edge of the bed, sighing. You patted the mattress, saying goodbye before getting up to start the day. 

_ Well, at least you had one good night’s sleep before going back to the bench.  _

Except, that’s not entirely how things turned out. You slept on the bench again for a week until one particularly frigid night on Hoth. The Mandalorian came silently down while you unfolded your blanket for the night. He said something about Yodito being too cold, and helping him sleep. You agreed to come up without hesitation, taking your position on the other side of the Yodito. 

Again, the child crawled back to his pod in the middle of the night. And again, you woke up in the Mandalorian’s embrace. He said nothing of it in the morning, just letting you go. You didn’t speak of it during the day that followed. 

The next night, he moved your blanket to his bed. You knew him well enough not to say a word when you saw the child already asleep in his pod. You climbed in first, laying on your back. You felt the mattress dip slightly as he joined you, mirroring your position. You let your hand fall to your side, filling the space separating your bodies. After a moment, his fingers covered yours, warm and comforting. 

You closed your eyes, knowing exactly where you’d wake up in the morning, safe and happy. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :D


	5. The Clan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The end. 
> 
> (For now...)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We've reached the final chapter! If you guys really liked and want to see more, please let me know. I have some ideas for other places to take this, but I am pretty content with the chapter as is. 
> 
> Either way, thank you for reading and enjoying! Extra special thanks goes out to Nyvera, as always, for her help and friendship. <3

" _ We have hope. Rebellions are built on hope. _ "

―Jyn Erso

_ Western Reaches - Malian _

You drew shapes and letters in long, looping brushes against the Mandalorian’s chest, enjoying the warmth of his skin under your fingertips. This was your favorite moment–the space between waking and rising. When you were awake and he was awake but neither of you said anything to make it real. All responsibilities, worries, and rules were suspended at this moment. It was just you and him, lying together in the light of morning. 

He reached up, stopping your hand by covering it with his own. Slowly and surely, he brushed his fingertips against your arm, spelling out a message. 

_ D...I...N… _

You looked up at him, nodding for him to go on. 

_ D...J...H–no too pointy, A…R…I...N _

“Din Djarin.” The words were foreign, but lovely as you said them aloud. 

He pulled his hand back, letting it rest over his heart.

_ Oh.  _ Your eyes widened.  _ That’s...that’s you.  _

“Din Djarin.” You repeated, with more certainty, looking up into his visor. 

He pulled you closer, resting your head on his chest in your favorite spot. You listened to his heartbeat for as long as you could, wishing that your favorite moment would never end. 

Until it did. 

You watched as Yodito played with a group of local children, toddling after them with his tiny legs. The other children laughed, trying to imitate his gurgles. You smiled, realizing that for the first time in close to a decade, you were really and truly happy. 

Your heart warmed even more at the thought of your conversation with Din that morning. 

He had been strapping on his armor, telling you to stay near the cantina while he finished business with a client. 

“We haven’t spent a lot of the credits from your reward.” He’d said. “What do you think about taking a few days off from hunting?” 

“I’d like that.” You had smiled at him. 

He nodded. 

“I’ll be back soon.” 

A sudden shift in the air around you pulled you from your reverie. Turning in a slow circle, you scanned the area. You saw nothing but the dusk and rock of the landscape, dotted with a few modest huts here and there. And yet you couldn’t shake the sense that someone was watching you. 

“Will you watch my child for a moment? I need to check on something.” You spoke to one of the mothers standing with you. 

“Of course.” 

“Thank you.” 

You walked cautiously around the corner of the cantina, following your intuition. No one on the street, no one in the doorways. No one at all. 

The hairs on the back of your neck rose. 

You spun around just as the cloth covered your nose and mouth. You inhaled a sickly-sweet smell as the world spun around you and you fell into darkness. 

~

Din walked out of the cantina, tucking the pouch of credits into his pocket. He walked around to the back where he’d left you and the child just an hour earlier. 

The children he’d heard laughing and playing now clung to their mothers’ legs, faces pale and stricken. One of them held Yodito to her chest, trying unsuccessfully to calm his whimpers. Din’s instincts kicked in immediately, his senses heightened and alert. He picked up the child, cradling him to his chest. 

“Where is she?” 

The woman’s eyes darted from the ground to the horizon and back, avoiding looking directly into his helmet. She didn’t answer his question. 

He stepped closer, voice low and dangerous. “Where is she?” 

“They took her.” Another woman said. “Hunters. They knocked her out and took her away.” 

“Which way?” 

She pointed out into the dunes, towards one of the landing pads. Din didn’t stop to thank her. He just ran. 

~

You woke up slowly. Whatever drug they had used to knock you out clinging to your senses. Everything felt slow as you tried to lift your arms, tried to blink, or even swallow. Steadily, the world sped up and things came into focus. 

You were sitting in a ship. They’d tied your hands behind your back, but hadn’t otherwise restrained you. Hearing voices close by, you scanned the small space quickly, looking for something, anything that would get you out of this.  __

You scooted a few feet to your left, facing away from a protruding piece of durasteel and dragging the chord binding your hands against it. In your new position, you heard the voices more clearly, one rough and low, the other with an accent.

“How the hell do you start the engine on this thing?” Accent said. 

“You’re the pilot. Not me.” Rough replied. 

“I’m used to cargo ships, not hunks of junk like this one. Just give me a minute, I’ll figure it out.” 

“Well hurry it up. I don’t want to be halfway across the parsec before that Mandalorian knows what’s what.” Rough said. 

“I know, I know.” 

You felt the first string of chord snap.  _ Only one more. Come on. _

“Do you think it’s worth it?” Accent said. “All those credits? What if he comes after us?” 

“With that much money we could escape anything. We’ll go to Canto Bight for a while, use new names. Lay low for a while.” 

“Good idea.” Accent agreed. “Hey, I think I’ve got something here.”

The engines hummed before stuttering and shutting off again. 

“Kriff. Almost there.” 

You moved your arms faster, willing the string to just  _ break already. _

It snapped. 

“Got it!” The engines roared to life. 

You ran towards the hatch door, teetering slightly as the ship shook. You searched desperately for a release button but came up empty. You took a deep breath, keeping the panic rising in your chest at bay. You closed your eyes, thinking back to your training all those years ago. You raised both hands, pointing them at the door, concentrating. 

_ Open.  _

The hatch blew as the ship began to rise. 

“Hey!” Rough yelled. 

You heard the voice behind you, but you’d already jumped. Hitting the ground hard, you dropped into a roll, coming up running. You ran and you ran across the sand. High in the sky above you, the ship continued to shake, emitting a terrible grinding noise. The engines shut off suddenly, leaving a moment of silence before the whole thing exploded. You kept running, not looking back, even as debris rained down on the sand. 

By the will of Maker, you’d landed closer to the Razor Crest than the cantina. You trudged towards the familiar ship,  _ your home _ . 

A crate came tumbling down from inside the ship, falling open and spilling tools across the sand. As you moved closer, you heard more crashes and bangs. You looked up the ramp to see him. Din had his back to you as he kicked the wall and tore at the metal. 

He dropped to his knees, letting out the most agonizing cry you’d ever heard. His head dropped, shoulders sagging in despair. You walked up the ramp slowly, hesitant to approach. 

“Din?” 

He was on his feet in an instant, whipping around to face you. He took one step forward before halting and retreating. 

“You’re...you’re alive.” 

You held out your arms. “Seems like it. I jumped before they took off all the way.” 

“I saw the ship explode. I thought…” He stumbled over his words, emotion weighing heavily on his voice. “You were gone.” 

“I’m here.” You assured him. “I’m not going anywhere.” 

He closed the distance between you in an instant, crushing you in an embrace. You held him, closing your eyes in relief. He pulled back, and you could feel his gaze from under the helmet. Uncertainty radiated off his body. 

“Wait here.” He said. 

He disappeared to the upper level for a moment, returning with a strip of cloth. 

“Do you trust me?” He asked

“Without question.” 

He moved behind you, pulling the cloth over your eyes and tying it at the back of your head. You heard him moving again, and then the little hiss of air you’d only ever heard once before. Your heart hammered against your ribs like a bird desperate to escape its cage. 

He took your hands gently in his, bringing them up to his face. You couldn’t help the gasp that escaped your mouth as you touched him. He held your wrists loosely as you explored his face with your fingertips. You traced his brow, a once or twice broken nose, and his strong jaw. He hadn’t shaved in a while, and you felt his moustache and stubble. You pushed your hands into his hair, thick and wavy. You had an inexplicable feeling he had dark hair. His lips were soft to the touch, parting slightly as he tried to control his breathing.

“Y/N,” You had loved his voice from the moment he’d first spoken to you, but the sound of it, unfiltered, was...unlike anything you’d ever known. 

“Y/N, I–” 

“It’s okay.” You let your arms rest around his shoulders, playing with the curls at the back of his neck. “I know.” 

“No, you don’t.” He said. 

His hands moved up, one cradling your face while the other slipped into your hair. You held your breath for just an instant, unsure in the darkness. Then he kissed you, telling you everything you needed to know and more. 

Din Djarin was a man of few words, and you’d learned to understand him through his actions. From this – your new favorite moment – you came to know a lot of things:

Under the blank façade, he is a deeply emotional, passionate person. 

His face is your favorite thing about him. 

He loves you just as much as you’d come to love him. 

And no matter where you go, or what challenges you face, you’ll be okay. You have each other–your little clan. A clan of three. 

**Author's Note:**

> Drop a comment below to let me know what you think!


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